


Rules of Fight Club

by Edonohana



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13600947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/pseuds/Edonohana
Summary: Frank tries to teach David and Sarah to fight so they can defend themselves when he's not around. One of them has a knack for it.





	Rules of Fight Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trane/gifts).



Frank stood in the middle of the space they’d cleared in the garage, which he’d finally decreed was big enough to fight in. David had never before devoted much (or any) thought to the garage floor, but he was now paying acute attention to how extremely hard it was and how much it would hurt if Frank decided it would make an excellent lesson to slam him into it. Or even wrestle him on it. His funnybone gave a sympathetic twinge at the very thought. 

“The first thing is, you don’t give anything away.” Frank looked at him and Sarah like they were supposed to know what the hell that meant. 

Sarah nodded earnestly, so maybe _she_ did. 

David still didn’t have a clue. “What’s that mean, Frank?” 

Frank gave that little sigh and eye-roll that David absolutely did not miss from the bunker days. 

“The first rule of Fight Club is you don’t talk about Fight Club?” David hazarded.

“What?” Frank gave him that "What the hell are you on about, David?" look that Frank did so well. David didn't miss that one, either.

“I can’t believe you’ve never heard of _Fight Club,_ Frank,” David said. “The second rule of Fight Club—”

“—is you don’t talk about Fight Club, yeah, I know,” Frank interrupted. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, you’re threatened, you don’t want the enemy to know you can take them. You want to look, uh, non-threatening.”

“I _am_ non-threatening,” said David. 

“You don’t think it’s better to make a show of strength? Intimidate them and try to make them go away?” Sarah suggested. 

Frank looked them both over, then smiled. “Nah.”

David liked to think he didn’t need to be able to murder people or look like he could to be a real man, but he’d had a feeling that this idea of Frank’s would make him question that. Sure enough, it did. 

Frank, who could be surprisingly sensitive considering the mass murder thing, used his locked-in-a-bunker-together-for-months telepathy and said, “That’s not why. Look, the whole idea is for you two to be able to defend yourselves when I’m not around. But if I was here, people still don’t just take one look at me and run. They take one look, and hit hard. Or they come back with more guns. You don’t want that.”

“Okay, so let’s say the enemy thinks I’m no threat,” Sarah said. “What next?”

 _The enemy_. A couple months of Frank, and he had Sarah using his words. David wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he covered it up with a grin. “Can’t wait to get to the kicking and punching, huh?”

Frank shook his head. “Barehanded fighting should never be your first choice. If you can, start with improvised weapons. Sarah’s good with those.”

“I am?” Sarah said. 

David saw the moment when she realized what Frank had meant—when she remembered actually doing what he’d seen on the monitor, smashing the lamp into the kidnapper’s head, then bolting into the kitchen and snatching his best chef’s knife. When he’d watched it, he’d been so terrified, it had made him nauseous. After she was safe, he’d watched it again. And he’d been scared sick all over again. But not just that. He’d been proud, too. That was his Sarah, fighting like a motherfucking lioness. 

“Uh-huh. Just grab whatever’s within reach.” Frank’s voice sharpened. “Now! Do it now!” 

With that, the shutters came down over his face. Only it wasn’t Frank's any more. Frank had turned out the lights and walked out the back door, leaving them to fight the Punisher. 

David knew it was just an act—sort of—but even so, he felt a sickening lurch of fear as the man he suddenly didn’t know any more drew back his fist to threaten Sarah. David lunged forward, arms out stiff in front of him like a zombie in an old movie before they got fast. He was slapped aside and went stumbling wildly into the wall, arms flailing. 

Out of the corner of his eye, David saw Sarah grab a folding chair. Keening like a banshee, she swung it, not overhead as he expected, but slicing the air from the side. Frank stepped back, but not quite far enough. One leg caught him in the mouth, sending a bright burst of blood across his face and down his shirt and even over the floor.

 _You always know when Frank’s around_ , David thought, a little dazed. _Blood fucking everywhere._

Sarah dropped the chair with a clatter. 

“Oh my God!” She flew to Frank and cupped his face in her hands. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

To David’s total lack of surprise, Frank was laughing as the blood ran down his chin. Just a split lip, it looked like. No missing teeth. Though, given that this was Frank, he’d probably have been laughing anyway, once he’d spat them out. “Nah, nah. It’s fine. That’s what you’re here for, learning to hurt people. It’s good. You got a knack for it.”

Sarah dropped her hands and pulled back, looking unsettled. 

David put his arm around her shoulders. “Jesus, Frank, you gotta phrase it like that? Tell her she’s got a gift for _martial arts._ Not fucking _hurting people._ ”

“Yeah, this isn’t martial arts,” Frank said. Then he relented. Putting one hand on each of their shoulders, but speaking more to Sarah, he said, “You’re good at protecting people, all right? Your kids. Your husband. Yourself. Nothing wrong with that.” 

“You were right the first time,” Sarah said quietly. David could feel the movement as she swallowed. “I _am_ okay with hurting people. If that’s what it takes.”

“Good.” Frank squeezed her shoulder. “I can teach you more. Make you better at it. But you got what it takes right now.” Then, shaking his head, he said to David, “I don’t know about you. That was fucking terrible. My grandma woulda done better.”

“I know.” David sighed. He’d expected exactly this outcome—well, minus Frank’s busted lip. But seeing the train coming didn’t make getting hit by it feel any better. “You should just keep teaching Sarah. Any enemies show up when you’re not around, she can beat the living daylights out of them and I’ll… type at them, I guess.”

“Hey now.” Frank gave him a squeeze too. It never stopped surprising David how gentle he could be. “You knocked me out once, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was because I’d set up this whole elaborate trap…” David trailed off. Sarah and Frank were both grinning at him. “Huh. I could come up with some more stuff like that. Little traps around the house. In the car. Hidden weapons, so I don’t need to improvise. I could carry an injector pen in my shirt pocket.” 

“Attaboy,” said Frank. He _still_ hadn’t bothered to wipe the blood off his face. 

David blotted it with his shirt sleeve, patting his lip carefully. 

Frank licked his lips. “It’s okay.” 

David wondered if Frank had let Sarah hit him on purpose, to give her confidence or a more realistic fighting experience or a taste for blood, who the fuck knew how Frank thought. He glanced at Sarah, and with married-for-sixteen-years telepathy, saw that she’d come to the same conclusion. 

To Frank, she said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

He gave a non-committal grunt. 

Sarah smiled, seeing right through him. “But it was sweet of you.” 

She pulled him to her and kissed him. For the first time in a while, watching them together made David remember how much it had hurt the first time he’d watched her kiss Frank. But things had been different then between him and Sarah, what with her thinking he was dead and him only able to watch her from a distance. For that matter, things had been different between him and Frank, what with Frank zip-tying him naked to a chair and him not even bothering to fix Frank a sandwich. Now, David watched and simply loved them. His two fighters. 

When Sarah let him go, Frank looked slightly stunned. His left hand curled halfway into a fist, then released. He still wasn’t used to being loved, David thought. Still didn’t quite believe it. 

David reached up and laid his palm on the back of Frank’s head. His hair was soft as a puppy’s ears and his mouth tasted like blood. And that, right there, was Frank Castle. 

He felt Sarah’s arm wrap around his waist a moment before Frank pulled them both in close. Sarah’s silky hair fell over his face and Frank’s hand was clenched on his shoulder hard enough to hurt. 

_Fourth rule of Fight Club_ , David thought absently. _Only two guys to a fight._

_Stupid rules._


End file.
